


Where Are You

by hailingstars



Series: Febuwhump [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Champagne, Decathlon, F/M, Febuwhump, Hotels, Underage Drinking, little to no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: Peter, MJ, Ned and Flash celebrate a decathlon win with champagne. Also, Peter learns about May's new relationship and Tony is stuck dealing with it all. You know, the usual.





	Where Are You

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely because I watched the far from home trailer and immediately shipped May and Happy. also, it's a bit of a mess, just, you've been warned.

Peter slid the keycard through the scanner and waited for the green lights to flash. Just a moment’s hesitation until the door clicked and him and Ned were able to push their way through with their duffel bags. They stood, silent, in the hall of their hotel room, looking around at the fancy furniture. Something was wrong. Very wrong. This wasn’t the sort of room handed out to high school students for a decathlon met. This was the kind of room Mr. Stark would stay in. It was huge, with high ceilings, an upstairs, and by the look of it, multiple bedrooms. 

To top it off, on the coffee table, one surrounded by plush couches, sat a bottle of champagne in a sleek black container of ice. 

“Dude,” said Ned. He dropped his bag on the floor. “The hotel made a mistake.” 

“Definitely,” said Peter. He looked around the room some more. Almost, it was better than his room had been in the hotel in Germany. Almost. 

“Let’s not tell anyone.” 

“Yeah. Good call.” 

The two of them collapsed on the couches, which were the softest, most comfortable couches Peter’s ever laid on, and hoped to enjoy the good life for at least fifteen minutes. MJ ruined it with her angry texting about an extra practice session in one of the hotel conference rooms. Reluctantly and solemnly they left their new hangout, complaining about practice that they didn’t need. 

They would never admit it out loud to MJ, but the practice did pay off. The team was half-way through all their competitions, and they hadn’t lost one yet, hadn’t even gotten a question wrong, if he didn’t count the time Abe sneezed funny, accidentally hit the buzzer and came up blank. The mood was great, better than great, better than the giant, expensive hotel room waiting for him once the day was over and they won the tournament.

Midtown High was definitely going to win the first-place ribbons. Peter was confident, and the best part was looking out into the audience and seeing May and Mr. Stark cheering him on. There was someone else there, too, sitting way too close to May, but Peter chose to ignore it, until he couldn’t anymore, until May was straightening his suit jacket between competitions and gushing about how proud she was. 

“May,” said Peter. “What is Happy doing here?” 

“How would I know? Ask Tony.” 

Peter frowned and looked over to the side of the hall where Mr. Stark was posing for selfies with students from the opposing school. Traitor. 

“You were holding hands,” said Peter. 

“What? No we weren’t.”

“Yes – “

“-Oh look, the rest of the team is meeting, better hurry up,” she said, and she pushed him toward the end of the hall where MJ was calling yet another team meeting. 

Another team meeting, a few more wins, an awards ceremony later and Peter was back in that hallway, handing over his first-place ribbon to May. Mr. Stark clapped him on the back, Happy was saying something Peter was actively ignoring, and at the end of the parade of parental gushing, they at least let him leave with his teammates and take the bus back to the hotel, with the promise to meet them in the hotel lobby later that night to say goodnight. 

“Nine o’clock sharp,” said Mr. Stark. 

The bus ride back was lots of whooping, lots of hands reaching across seats to high-five. It was a gross display of school spirit, the type of thing MJ usually avoided with a passion, but she sat there, in the middle of it, allowing it to go on without comment. Once or twice, Peter noticed a sort of smile, and finally, when they were almost back to the hotel, she made a declaration. Not one for another practice session, but one for a celebration. 

They just needed a location, one free of chaperones. 

And Peter knew what was coming next, knew what the next words out of Ned’s mouth before he said. All that foreknowledge, and it was still too late. 

“I know where we can go!”

“Ned,” said Peter, though gritted teeth.

“Peter and I got the best room…” 

So much for not telling anyone. Peter buried his face in his hands, somehow knowing this would be a bad idea, even if he didn’t yet know why. 

*

“Fuck,” said Flash. He stood in the middle of the suite, looking everything over. “Why was this golden opportunity wasted on a couple of losers like you two?” 

Peter shot Ned an annoyed look. If there was anyone he didn’t want to hang out with them in their suite, in their miracle of a screwup, it was Flash. And there he was, stalking around the room, touching everything in the room, while he, Ned and MJ watch. The rest of the team decided not to join, and that was fine with Peter.

He had a bad feeling about tonight, and the less people around, the better. 

MJ threw herself down on one of the couches, similar to the way him and Ned had when they first got into the room and said, “Nice. Nothing like enjoying the life of luxury at the expense of a mega corporation.”  
At least she was there. Peter would endure Flash if it meant MJ hanging out with them without drilling them with decathlon practice questions. 

Flash picked up the bottle of champagne and trickles of water from where the ice melted fell off. He held it up. “The gods supplied us with the perfect way to celebrate our victory.” 

“You didn’t even do anything,” said MJ, dead-faced. “You’re an alternate.” 

Like all insults, it bounced off Flash and he pretended he hadn’t heard her, even if he did deflate just a little bit. He made a big deal about opening the bottle, which turned out to be a mistake because it became very obvious Flash had no idea how to about a bottle of champagne. He struggled with the metal wiring holding the cork in place, until MJ got fed up. She snatched the bottle away from him, popped it open and a white mist poured out over the top. 

“Peter goes first,” she said, and when Peter reached for one of the glass chutes on the table. His fingertips barely touched one when MJ said, “Glasses are for cowards.” 

That was fair. He grabbed the champagne, took a swig he thought was impressive, and handed it off to Flash. That’s how it started, that’s how the four of them came to be sitting on the floor, at each edge of the table, passing champagne round and round, until things became a blur, until Flash became bearable and Ned became giggly. 

At some point, someone put some music on through their phone, and at some point, they moved to the couches where Flash sat next to Peter and put his arm around him. 

“You know Parker,” he said. “You’re really not that much of a dickwad. My mom says I lash out at others because I’m insecure.” 

“I’m so surprised,” said MJ. 

“Uh thanks?” 

He tried to scoot away, but it turned more into him crawling across the couch to the other side, knees on the floor and his upper body smashed into the cushions, far away from Flash. It was nice there, laying like that he could barely hear Ned’s loud laughing. He did, however, hear the knock on the door. 

They all traded looks, and it was clear they all had the safe plan to ignore the knocking. Whoever it was would eventually go away, unless of course, it was Mr. Stark standing on the other side, and when Peter’s phone started to buzz with the ringtone programmed for him, he knew that’s exactly who was knocking on the door. 

“Oh shit,” he said. He started a monologue in his head, telling himself to be cool, that he could play this off, and he even managed to get to the door with leaning on anything. Opening the door was a different story. 

It did not only reveal Mr. Stark, but also May and behind them, Happy Hogan. The whole gang. The worst part was their clothes. Not Mr. Stark. He was dressed strangely casually. But May wore this elegant dress, and Happy was wearing a suit that wasn’t anything like the suits he wore when he was driving him around. 

“May?” asked Peter. “Why are you dressed like that?” 

“Better question,” interjected Mr. Stark. “Where the hell have you been, and why aren’t you answering your phone?” 

“Uh –“

“I suppose this is as good as time to tell you as any –“

“-Actually May I think-“ Mr. Stark tried to interrupt but May kept going. She had moved back a couple of steps, linked her arm with Happy’s and Peter had to lean against the side of the doorway for support. 

“-Happy and I are dating,” she told him. “And we’re going on a date tonight.”

The hall started spinning sort of fast, and he stumbled off the wall, into Mr. Stark who held onto him. He made some pathetic noise that sounded like a mix of a whine and a groan. 

“Oh, honey I know you miss Ben but really he would want me to move on, and Happy is a good man- “

“Yeah, don’t really think that’s the issue, May,” said Mr. Stark. At that point, if it hadn’t been for Mr. Stark holding him up, he would’ve been lying face down on the floor. “He’s smashed.” 

“What?”

“Wasted, inebriated, donezo.”

Peter hung onto Mr. Stark, but at the same time, would’ve like to knock him into the wall for outing him. May stared at him, tilted her head and got in his face.

“Oh my god, you are,” she said. She straightened out. “Huh. I don’t know if I’m proud of you for participating in normal teenage rebellion instead of out trying to chase down some illegal arms dealer, or angry with you for ruining my date.” 

“Ruined?” asked Peter. He did feel a little bad, mostly drunk, but guilty all the same. 

“Well I can’t leave you alone now, can I?” 

“I got this,” said Mr. Stark. His grip tightened on Peter. “You two go out, have fun, but not as much fun as Petey here, I can only handle one drunky at a time.” 

May and Happy looked at each other, then wasted no time locking hands and leaving the two of them there in the hallway. 

“I thought she would at least refuse my offer once, didn’t you?” asked Mr. Stark. 

Peter shrugged and allowed Mr. Stark to help him back inside the suite. They stopped at the end of the hallway, where it opened into the living area, where Flash and Ned were passed out on the floor. MJ was awake, alert as ever, sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the table. 

Mr. Stark gave a long exhale. “This is why I never do good deeds.” 

*

When Peter woke up a couple of hours later, he was sure it wasn’t worth it. Lights were too bright, sounds were too loud, and he wasn’t sure he was going to eat anything ever again. He sat up, carefully, and discovered he was on the couch, covered in a blanket, and Mr. Stark was on the other side, scrolling on his phone. 

“Oh good you’re awake,” said Mr. Stark. 

There was only one thing on his mind. “Are they back yet?” 

“Happy and your aunt? No.” 

Peter collapsed back down into the couch. He knew, at the very back of his head, that they’d been dating all along. He blocked it out, though, but he didn’t live in that denial anymore. May ruined it with her confession.

“Do me a favor and give Hap a chance, alright?” asked Mr. Stark. “He’s disgustingly… happy. You know, we might need to get him a new ironic nickname soon, and for what it’s worth, she seems happy, too.” 

It was true. She did seem happier lately, singing in the showers happy, and Peter didn’t like it, but maybe he could learn to be at least okay with it. 

“Fine,” said Peter. “But I’m not calling him dad.” 

“Uh, no. If anyone deserves to be called dad it’s the person who’s stayed up taking care of three drunk teenagers.”

Peter looked around. “Where – “

“Well the scary one said something about you all being lightweights and left,” said Mr. Stark. MJ. “And I put the other two in the bedrooms. They’re out cold. Smooth move with champagne, by the way. If you’re gonna throw a party in a hotel suite stick to beer next time, Einstein. Champagne will drop you too fast if you chug it.” 

He smashed his face down in his pillow and groaned. What was life that his aunt was dating Happy Hogan and Tony Stark was giving him tips on achieving the best buzz? He closed his eyes, tried to drift back off, and tried not to think about the embarrassment that will follow this night forever.


End file.
